History Of Love
by MonochromaticSongbird
Summary: Sultry playboy Jasper Whitlock thinks he has the whole school wrapped about his little finger, but when perky spitfire Alice Brandon sits next to him in History, he becomes aware just how much he needs to know about the world around him.
1. Sparks Fly

"Mr Whitlock?"

I ignored him, brushing the hair back off the neck of the blonde next to me, who was currently fluttering her eyelashes in a poor attempt to be seductive.

"Mr Whitlock?"

My lips brushed against her ears, as I continued to whisper sweet-nothings to her, my arm thrown casually over the back of her chair drawing circles on the skin of her arm.

She twittered and laughed leaning forwards very slightly, a not-so-subtle attempt to maximise her already ample cleavage.

Girls were so fucking predictable. Give 'em a wink and tell them their beautiful, and they'll be on your bed naked before you can ask their name.

"Mr Whitlock!"

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, turning my sceptical gaze to the exasperated looking teacher at the front of the class.

"Yes sir?" I smirked at him.

"Are you listening to me?"

"No sir."

"And why not?"

"Because _sir, _I already know everything there is to know about the consolidation of Hitler's power, and I don't feel the need to listen to some shit teacher ramble on as they try to teach me something I could already pass every fucking exam in."

He spluttered, his face flushing as a round of faint laughter broke through the otherwise silent classroom, "Well then_ Mr Whitlock, _answer me this; what year was the Reichstag Fire?"

"27th of February, 1933."

His face darkened even further and he leant forwards, resting his hands on the deserted desks in front of him, "What was the name of the person accused?"

"Van Der Lubbe."

"And why was he held responsible?"

"He was a Dutch Communist, and a well know pyromaniac who was found stumbling from the wreckage, _sir._"

I interjected the last word with as much arrogance as I possibly could, before turning back to the blonde bimbo at my side, whose name I had already forgotten. Lucy? Lorna?

Something beginning with L.

"Where were we?" I said, lowering my voice and grinning at her.

She giggled; a high, fake laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, "You were telling me how this shirt made my eyes remind you of sunny days back home in Texas."

_Ah, of course._

My personal favourite – telling the girls that they remind me of home. I of course forget to mention that I hate Texas with a passion and wouldn't set foot back there again is someone paid me a fucking fortune.

"And I was about to tell you," she continued, dropping her voice to near theatrical levels in an attempt to sound husky and lustful, "That I can make you feel just as much at home as you want to..."

Here she paused for dramatic effect, biting gently on my earlobe, "In my bed."

I suppressed another eye roll and instead opted for the lazy one-sided grin that the girls seemed to love, and held back a faint jolt of disgust as her taloned fingernails drifted up and down the inside of my thigh.

_Cut your damn nails woman – I feel like I'm being groped by a fucking vulture!_

"Miss Mallory! Stop talking!"

_Lauren! Good to put a name to the face of the girl who is currently gouging trenches in my thighs with her fingers. _

"But sir!" Lauren whined, and I flinched as her voice reached impossible decibels, "I don't _care _about History!"

_Rookie mistake there, Miss Mallory._

"Miss Mallory, I do not give a damn whether or not you care about my lesson, it is my job to teach you! I'm afraid I may have to have you swap seats with someone, if I ever plan on getting some peace around here!"

I phased out Lauren's torrent of pissed off moans and stared out of the window, appreciating the view of the girls playing volleyball outside.

Whoever this History teacher was, he insisted we sat boy-girl-boy-girl, so whoever Lauren got swapped with would be fine with me – I had every girl in this class wrapped around every single one of my fingers.

"Miss Brandon, please swap seats with Miss Mallory."

Except that one.

_Who the fuck?_

I jerked my eyes back to the classroom, watching as a small girl at the front of the class scraped her chair back and gathered up her books before flouncing to the back, a severely pissed off look gracing her face.

I didn't miss the scowl she sent in Lauren's direction either, and suppressed a chuckle.

She threw her 80 pound frame into the seat next to me scattering her belongings on the table, and proceeded to scratch angry doodles into the wooden desk top with her pen.

_Play nice Jasper._

I held my hand out to her giving her the most attractive grin I could muster, "Jasper Whi –"

"I know who you are," she cut me off shortly turning her glaring eyes onto me, her pink lips pressed together in anger, "Because I've been at this school for 6 years and, unlike you, I actually pay attention!"

_Oh, so the little kitten knows how to bite huh?_

"I pay attention!" I protested indignantly, folding my arms haughtily over my chest.

She raise an eyebrow, "reeeeaaally?" she dragged out scathingly, "what's my name?"

_Fuck._

_Busted._

So I did what any heterosexual male would do when faced with such a situation. I whipped out the southern accent, and I flirted.

Dropping my voice I leaned closer to her, not missing how she stiffened as my breath drifted across her neck, and how her eyes fluttered closed as I said, "Why does it matter what your name is, you're the one who's gonna be screamin' my name later darlin'."

I heard three seconds tick by from the clock on the wall before she pulled back from me as far as her chair would go, disgust marring her pretty features and spat, "My name's Alice Brandon, and I wouldn't go anywhere near you even if someone was holding a gun to my head."

And with that she swept all her books into her bag with one violent motion of her arm, stood so violently that her chair toppled over with a clatter, and marched from the room.

_What. The. Fuck._

"Hey Felix?" I leaned across the lunch table, nudging him with my arm, "You ever heard of Alice Brandon?"

"Nah mate."

_At least he stopped sucking Jessica's face for 10 seconds, even if it was to give you a half-assed answer. How considerate._

"Alice Brandon? I know her!" Jane's high pitched tones reached me from three seats over, where she sat in-between Marcus and her brother Alec.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, she's a right wierdo! Dresses like a freak right, and I've never seen her with one set group of people. Every day she's with someone new. Look, she's there," she pointed in the direction of the food counter, "With that garage-chick Rosalie Hale."

I followed the direction of Jane's hand and saw that Alice Brandon was indeed lining up with the tall blonde Rosalie Hale, who spent most of her days down in the workshop garage, pulling cars apart.

I scrutinised her for a moment, taking the opportunity to while she looked mildly happy, and her face wasn't screwed up and yelling at me.

Most of her facial features were deemed practically invisible next to her wide, shockingly violet eyes, though her nose was delicately pointed and her lips full and puffy. Her hair stood out in every direction it possibly could from her head, as though she had run her fingers through it, over and over again.

She was increasable short – barely reaching Rosalie's shoulder, yet her exuberant arm gesticulations, and her wide smile definitely made up for her lack of height.

I wondered why the hell I'd never noticed her before.

"What's her deal?" I said to no one in particular, knowing they would answer.

"Plays guitar in the school band, sings in the choir. Book nerd, art student, chess club. I think she does every fucking cross-curricular activity there is."

"Why the sudden interest in the shorty mate? The girl immune to your charms or somthin'?"

"No, bitch got swapped with me in History! Now Jazz has to sit next to her!" I flinched as Lauren's nasal tones hit my eardrums, and twirled meaningless patterns on the desk with my fingers, as she swung herself onto my lap.

"Don't call me Jazz, Lauren." I muttered darkly to her.

_My mother calls me Jazz._

She shrugged against my shoulder and leaned around to steal a handful of chips from my plate, talking loudly as she ate them about how lucky she was to be able to eat chips with no worry of putting on weight.

_Only 'cause you have your plastic surgeon on speed dial, idiot._

I glanced up as Lauren droned on and the rest of the table gossiped loudly, my eyes meeting Alice's for just a second as she left the hall the scowl back on her face, before she looked away.


	2. Runs In The Family

Disclaimer: I do wish that I owned Twilight, I really do. But darn it I don't.

How sad.

Ok, so there's been some confusion. Jasper IS incredibly OOC at the beginning of this story, and probably most of the way through. He is, in the nicest way possible, a cocky, arrogant jackass that does what he wants regardless of who he hurts.

But there is more of his history in this chapter, and hopefully you will learn to find out why he acts how he does.

Yes I will be introducing the rest of the characters in a few chapters time, and they will play a HUGE part in this story.

Musical tuuunes for this chapter –

Rebel Yell – Billy Idol

Sale Of The Century – Sleeper

The Whore's Hustle, and The Hustler's Whore – PJ Harvey

_**********_

It was nearly two weeks before we spoke again. Every History lesson was the same – she would enter the room, throw a few glares my way and proceed to ignore me for the rest of the lesson.

I was perfectly happy with this version of events, because while she was studiously pretending that I didn't exist, it gave me the perfect opportunity to examine her.

Every lesson she would write in a different colour – bright blue, vivid green, neon orange – she had them all. She would ink swirling patterns of flowers and faces on her hands and arms, decorating every surface she could reach.

She was well dressed for a Forks inhabitant, and I frequently saw her clothed in designer labels – but she didn't give off the air of a pretentious rich kid the way Alec and Jane did.

It was true as well that she was never seem with the same people, but everyone in the year seemed to have heard of her. Apart from my group of friends, everyone seemed to love the perky pixie that was Alice Brandon.

"Do you mind?!" She hissed at me, breaking through my hazy thoughts on a particularly rainy afternoon.

"I beg your pardon darlin'?"

"Leering at me all lesson!" she snapped, "And don't call me darling."

I grinned, turning back to face her, "Does it offend you? I'm sorry what would you prefer? Sweetheart?"

"If we're gonna go down that road, then I'd rather you didn't talk to me at all."

_Ok, this is getting ridiculous._

"Why the fuck do you hate me so much?!" I questioned in a harsh whisper, "I don't even know you! What could I have possably done to make you hate me?!"

She raised a condescending eyebrow, "Why do you care. It's not like you _know me_."

"I don't like people hating me."

She scoffed, "Yeah, like I'm the only person in this room who hates you."

"Who else hates me?"

Her eyes scanned the room quickly before flicking back to mine with a slight smirk, "I've counted at least 5. And 3 people are off today."

My mouth dropped open in outrage, and my eyes followed the path hers had around the room, examining everyone's faces. None of them stood out, none of them brought any memories to sharp relief.

"Who?" I protested angrily, knowing I sounded more like a petulant child than anything, but not caring.

Her smirk deepened and she pointed into the far corner, at a girl with long dark hair and horn rimmed glasses, "Number one, Angela Webber."

I scrutinised her for a moment; pretty but plain, average body. I definitely hadn't had sex with her. Not that I remembered anyway.

"You didn't shag her Casanova," Alice sighed, dropping her pen and leaning back in her chair, "You stood her up when you were twelve, and she's pined over you ever since. Sure she thinks she loves you, but she hates you as well."

_Huh. I don't even remember that._

But Alice wasn't done yet, "That," she pointed a few seats away from Angela, "that's Ben. Angela's boyfriend. He hates you because she loves you." she shrugged. "Simple really. He stays on your good side because it's better for him."

"Alright, so I'm a bastard. It's hardly my fault."

"Right. It's not your fault at all that you strut around the place like you own it, using as many people as you can get your filthy hands on for your own entertainment and not caring about the ramifications."

And with that she slammed her book closed, rested her chin on her arms and ignored me for the rest of the lesson.

_**********_

I wrenched at the buttons at the top of my shirt as I left school, unbuttoning the first three and ruffling my fingers through my hair. My fingers paused for a moment on my collar, acknowledging a pink smudge of lipstick on the blue cotton. Courtesy of...Gina? Gianna?

Fuck knows.

_Detention was a bitch. But the cheerleaders behind the bleachers really made up for it._

I swung myself into my Aston Martin Vanquish and revved the engine, resting my head against the steering wheel in an attempt to get rid of the pounding headache that had taken up residence in my temple after Alice's rant at me.

_I think I hate you Alice Brandon. _

I backed out of the parking lot, and was half way to the school gates when I caught sight of a tiny figure, lugging a huge guitar case almost as big as she was across the empty lot.

_Speak of the devil..._

I watched as she loaded the case into the back of a banana yellow Porsche, before waving to the tall lanky figure of a bronze-haired boy who was getting into a silver Volvo opposite.

_Band geek. Riiight._

_**********_

The house was silent as I let myself in, but I wasn't sure what I was actually expecting. I dropped my keys into the bowl in the side table, threw my coat onto the sofa and made my way up the stairs.

I left my bag against the wall, and knocked softly on the door down the hallway, "Mother?"

There was a faint rustling like the wings of a bird from inside the room, and a sleepy whimper, "Mother?" I tried again louder, pushing the door open a crack.

The light from the hallway streamed into the dark room, casting dark, sporadic shadows on the floor.

"Jazzy?" a quiet voice whispered from the bed across the room, "Is that you Jazzy?"

"It's me mother," I murmured, making my way across the room towards the moving bundle of blankets on the bed.

"Oh Jazzy I had such a horrible dream," she sobbed, reaching towards me with thin arms, "he...he was back. He was whispering to me from the shadows," she broke off choking. "He...told me he would always...find me."

"It's Ok mother," I sighed, smoothing the wispy blonde hair down on her forehead, "he'll never find you again, I promise."

"You were always such a good boy Jazzy," she whispered, her eyelids drooping sleepily, "Such a good boy."

I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, before laying her back on the covers, and stretching the duvet over her thin form. She murmured and curled her fingers into the covers.

"Goodnight mother." I whispered as I crossed the room towards the door. I slipped outside the room, and managed to close the door fully before my legs gave way. I slid down the wall to the floor, burying my head in my hands, trying to ignore the tears that pricked at my eyes.

The buzzing of my phone in my pocket snapped me out of it, and I brushed angrily at my eyes before answering.

"Yeah?"

"Alright Jasper? You comin' out tonight?"

"Where're you goin'?"

"Volterra. Cheap booze, loud music and chicks in short skirts!"

"Sure."

I hung up before he could answer, dropping the phone back in my pocket before pushing myself off the ground and making for my bedroom. Cheap booze, loud music and sluts in skirts was _exactly _what I needed right now.

Knowing I wouldn't be expected to turn up for at least another two hours, I pulled off my shirt and threw myself onto the bed, grabbing my vodka bottle from under my bed with one hand and my cigarettes with the other.

I took a mouthful, not even wincing as the liquor burned my throat,and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke in a lazy pattern above my head.

My thoughts unwittingly turned to the room down the hall, a room which would look completely normal to any visitor of the house, but I knew different.

It had been three years, but she had barely left the room.

Three years since that bastard got sent to prison.

Three years since my mother's sanity faded away.

I sat up, facing the mirror opposite the bed, glaring at my reflection. It was too much to look at; too much like him. His eyes, his nose, even his _hair. _

I could see him everytime I saw myself, and I hated him.

I hated him for everytime he made me cower under my bed, my blanket around my ears.

I hated him for everytime his fingers touched her.

I hated him for every single word of hate he had drilled into our skulls for fifteen years, before I worked up the courage to tell somebody.

I hated myself for slowly becoming like him.

_**********_

The music was pounding in my ears, as heavy bass beat that sent vibrations rattling up my spine with every note. The air was smoky and hazy, bodies pressed together, grinding in the heat.

I leant against the bar, downing a shot of vodka before turning back to what could only be described as a sex-pit, in front of me.

_I think the polite term is 'dance floor'_

_- Fuck off._

_First sign of madness, talking to yourself._

_- Or first sign of intoxication._

_That girl over there's looking at you like you're retarded. Do something, fucking idiot._

My blurry eyes focused on the girl across from me, and I smirked. Long red hair, top so low cut that her boobs where practically looking at me.

_Easy._

I dropped her a lazy wink, before turning back to the bar and ordering two more shots.

_5, 4, 3, 2..._

"Hey there, handsome," she purred in my ear, draping a tanned arm over my shoulders. The opening notes of Billy Idol's 'Rebel Yell' span from the speakers and I grinned, turning back to the redhead and handing her a shot before downing my own.

_And so it begins._

_Again._


	3. Erase and Rewind

Disclaimer: No. Not now. Not ever.

Thanks for all the reviews, I'm loving the response this is getting!

This story may start to get a little confusing, I need to introduce the rest of the characters, as well as add in a bit more of Jasper's history, make his current problems clearer and maybe bring in Maria. And of course get the spark going between J/A. Just warning you, it's going to be a long & bumpy ride.

Jasper's thoughts are the _italics_, obviously, and his father's voice is in _**bold**_.

*******

It was well after 4 am when I finally dragged myself across the lawn, and silently unlocked the front door. My head was pounding and I stank of smoke and vodka, but I had two rules and two rules only.

One, never bring girls home. Ever.

And two, never stay the night. Hell never stay longer than two hours unless you have to.

I knew I was going to regret this in the morning, but right then I didn't care. I threw myself face down on the bed, passing out as soon as my head touched the pillow.

_A woman was sitting on the edge of a large bed, her back to me. Her shoulders were hunched over, her head and arms curled into her body, defensive. Every now and then a tremor would run through her frame, shaking her violently. _

_I reach out a chubby hand my fingers stretching as far as they could to reach her, but I was too far away. My six year old head couldn't quite comprehend what was going on, my thoughts a blur._

_I let out a whimper,"Mama?"_

_The figure jerked slightly, as though she only just noticed I was in the room and span around, flinching slightly as she did so. _

"_Jasper? I told you to go to bed."_

"_I was frightened Mama. I heard shouting."_

_The figure moved out of the shadows of the dark room, the street light from the windows throwing her face into sharp relief. I threw my hands over my mouth, covering a startled gasp._

_Her left eye was swelling shut, a trickle of blood escaping down her cheek. Her lips were puffy and swollen, darkening to a near purple. She attempted a smile, but it looked more like a grimace._

"_It's worse than it looks Jazzy I promise. I'm fine." _

_She moved towards me, her fingers twisting awkwardly on my shoulder, and I noticed two of them swelling slightly, "Now run along back to your room, quickly."_

_I nodded, turning back to the door. I ran for the corridor as fast as I could, but my short legs barely made it past the staircase when I saw a dark silhouette opposite me._

_I turned slowly, pressing my palms against the wall._

"_Hello Jasper."_

"_Daddy." My voice was barely more than a whisper, each syllable scratching my throat. I didn't notice I was crying until I taste salt on my lips._

"_Leave him alone."_

_Her voice was no louder than mine, built up with false confidence as she trembled in her doorway._

_The tall figure shrugged, laughing, "I wasn't gonna hurt him Lizzie, just teach him a lesson." He moved in front of me, leering down from nearly two feet taller._

"_What kind of man cries, Jasper? What sort of man are you if you cry, and stand up for the women?"_

_My lips trembled, and I clamped them together, willing my chin not to wobble._

"_Answer me!"_

_The words rang through the hallway, and someone let out a small squeal, like a frightened mouse. Maybe it was mother, maybe it was me._

"_I don't know sir."_

"_Woman need to be taught a lesson Jasper. Do you want to be taught a lesson?"_

"_No sir."_

_He let out a chuckle, dark and ominous. "You're gonna grow up to be just like your Daddy, you hear that son? Maybe then you'll understand."_

_Suddenly he was blocked from view, and I found myself shielded by mother's skirts. I don't know when she moved from her door to stand in front of me, but I didn't care._

"_He will never be like you."_

_Her voice was stronger, as though she was sure. She believed what she was saying._

"_Not my Jasper."_

_A slap echoed off the walls, a split second later joined by a faint scream._

_The darkness was distorting my view, but I saw the faint outline's of two figures struggling in front of me._

"_Bitch! Don't speak to me like that!"_

_And then they were gone, he was throwing her into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard after him, that the hinges creaked, and the plaster flaked from the ceiling._

_I ran to my room, grabbing my sheets and pulling them under the bed with me._

_I didn't do it fast enough._

_My ears weren't fully covered before the screaming started._

I jerked awake, breathing hard.

The sheets were twisted around me as I lay on the bed, my hair plastered to my head with ice cold sweat, and I shivered violently.

It had been years since my dreams had been anything but memories, as though that was all my subconscious could drag up to entertain me as I slept.

I rolled onto my back, dragging my hair out of my eyes.

There was hardly any point trying to get back to sleep tonight, and I glanced the glowing numbers of the clock next to the bed.

_5.45? Are you freakin' kiddin' me?_

I swung my legs over onto the floor, not daring to risk another chance at sleep. Dreams, nightmares or memories; whatever you wanted to call them, they all ended the same way. Three cups of strong coffee, an hour long run while the world woke up and hours of lost sleep.

I got to my feet, still shaken, still trembling.

_I am nothing like him._

_**Yes you are Jasper. You are like me.**_

I jerked around, my heart beating fast. The room was empty, deserted.

_**I'm not there Jasper, not yet. But I don't need to be, I'm a part of you. Wherever you are, I will be to. There's no getting rid of me.**_

"Go away."

I was in a heap on the floor, my head pressed between my knees.

"Leave me alone."

_**You'll understand one day Jasper. I promise you that.**_

"I'm nothing like you."

But my voice lacked conviction, I didn't have the belief my mother did.

_**You're more like me than you think, less like me than I want you to be. But you'll get there. **_

"I don't hit girls," I whispered, pressing my palms to my forehead.

_**Not yet.**_

Silence.

He was gone, but I could still feel him, lurking in the corners of my mind.

My father.

*******

The buzzing of the corridors was amplified, like someone was taking an electric drill to my skull. I knew better than to drink that much on a school night.

Even though I'd remained concious for most of the evening, parts of it were still a blur.

_That redhead...Tanya. She could do things with her tongue that I –_

"Alright Jazz."

Aro slapped me hard on the back, and I flinched slightly, leaning back against my locker and rubbing my temples, "Don't call me Jazz."

"Sure, whatever man. Lunch?"

I nodded, and blindly joined the group of them walking towards the cafeteria through the crowds of students. My stomach turned as the smell of food hit my nostrils.

_Gross._

My eyes wondered through the throng of pupils.

A tall blonde was leaning against a locker, flicking through a car magazine.

A huge guy in a hockey jersey was laughing loudly into a phone as he strode down the hall.

Alice Brandon had her arms linked with a skinny, pale brunette, and was giving me the angriest look I think she could muster. I raised an eyebrow coldly, and she frowned further.

_She hates you._

She was passing within a foot of me, if I wanted I could reach out and grab her arm, ask her what the hell her problem was. My fingers twitched at the thought.

_Just a few more inches and –_

"Hey there gorgeous."

I turned sharply, my mouth open and ready to yell at whoever interrupted me.

And then it fell open a few more inches.

A Spanish beauty was standing in front of me, her dark eyebrows raised in arrogance and amusement, her fingers trailing across my shoulder.

"Maria," she purred,offering me an elegantly manicured hand, "I'm new."

"Jasper Whitlock," I smirked, taking her hand and brushing my lips across her knuckles, "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

_Score._

**A/N: I hate Maria.**

**Seriously.**

**But hey, she'll be out of there eventually.**

**No this will not turn into a Jasper/Maria story.**

**Promise. **


	4. Science vs Romance

Disclaimer: If I owned Twilight, they would all be human and there would be a hell of a lot more swearing.

Sorry if I offended any Spanish Beauties, but making bitch-Maria one. She'll be out of here eventually, I promise :) I may even throw in a Rosalie/Maria bitch fight.

And on with the show!

********

**Three Days Later**

"What the fuck?!"

"Mr Whitlock please refrain from swearing when speaking to me."

I glared at him, rolling my eyes.

"As I was trying to explain before interrupted, your science grades are slipping. We all know that you are capable of performing better than this, so we are moving you up a class in the hope that you will buck up."

As he spoke he slid a piece of paper across the table to me.

"Advanced Chem? Are you kidding me?!"

"I do not joke about science Mr Whitlock."

I snorted, snatched up the new timetable and stalked out the door, tossing it into the trash can as I passed.

"Advanced Chemistry, Mr Whitlock. Everyday last lesson, room 403!" His voice rang after me as I walked away, and I flinched.

_Great. Now I **have **to go._

A hand ran across my shoulder, long nails digging into my neck. "Maria," I smirked.

"Jazzy," she cooed in my ear, "skip class with me?"

I gritted my teeth at the nickname, but tried to ignore it, "Can't babe, sorry. I've been transferred to a new Advanced Chem class and they're expecting me."

She pouted, "fine, I'll just go and drink on the bleachers with the Jocks." She turned away, her hips swaying in her short skirt as she sashayed towards the door.

"Hey," I called after her, and she glanced over her shoulder, "Don't shag any of them."

"Wouldn't dream of it babe," she winked, before disappearing round the corner.

_Damn._

I walked into the Science class ten minutes late without knocking, slamming the door loudly behind me and waiting for the teacher to notice I was there.

"So you must be the elusive Mr Whitlock I have heard...so much about."

"That's me."

He nodded thoughtfully, "I know just the partner for you."

_No freakin' way._

Her plastic science goggles were making her already huge eyes seem slightly bug-like, her hair was spikier than normal due to the heat of the classroom, a pencil was stuck behind her ear and a pen poking out of her mouth, and she was elbow deep in a very complicated looking experiment.

"Miss Brandon?"

"Mmm?" she said without looking up, her eyes fixed intently on the test tube in front of her.

"This is Mr Whitlock, he will be your partner for the rest of the year, tell him what your doing and help him catch up on all the work he has missed. I know you'll be able to keep him in order for me."

She straightened up, her eyes fixing on me, her mouth dropping open slightly, "You've got to be kidding me Sir."

"Sorry to disappoint Miss Brandon," he nodded, and walked to the other side of the classroom.

"Fucking great," she snapped, throwing another pair of glasses my way, "Just what I need. Another idiotic jackass coming to look over my shoulder and do no work while I slave away trying to not fail, and then expect me to help then at the end of the year when it comes to the exams."

The heat in the classroom was making my head spin, and her slight form was getting blurrier by the second. I threw myself into the chair next to her and pressed my fingertips against my temples.

"Look, Brandon. I don't want to be here anymore than you want me to, Ok? If I promise to not talk unless you expressly give me permission, can you just help me pass this class?"

She appraised me for a moment, "Fine. No talking. And you have to do everything I tell you, but don't do anything on your own."

"Gladly."

She rolled her eyes.

_One day they are gonna roll right out of the pretty head of hers, I hope she knows that._

_- Brandon? Pretty? **Really?**_

_Hey, I'm **your** subconscious._

"Whitlock!"

"Huh?"

"Please don't drift off when I'm trying to help you pass."

"Right. Sorry. What do you want me to do?"

She sighed, exasperated, "Well we need to test the rate of reactions when different reactants are mixed with different –"

I cut her off with a wave of my hand, "Enough with the science lingo there, Little Miss Chemistry. Tell me something I actually understand."

"Fine. Add a small amount of this white powder to that liquid."

_Seems simple enough. Although she didn't tell me how much to add. Whatever, won't really make a difference._

I rolled my eyes, apparently it was catching, and tipped the glass beaker of powder over the test tube, watching Brandon set up the bunsen burner. I swallowed hard, my stomach churning slightly as she reached over to turn the gas on.

The hiss of gas was loud even in the noisy classroom, and I flinched instinctively. My hand trembled over the test tube and I glanced down.

_Shit._

_I don't think I was supposed to add **all **of the white stuff._

"...Brandon?"

"Little busy here Whitlock."

"Yeah I can see that," I stuttered, taking a few wary steps back from the sudden flare of the blue flame, "I just..."

"Fuck!"

Apparently she'd caught sight of the empty jar, and the heap of white powder soaking into the clear liquid.

My eyes flickered back to the flame of the burner, dancing by her elbow. A few inches and those sleeves of hers would –

Something cannonballed into me hard, catching me off guard and throwing me backwards. My shoe caught on the leg of the chair and my legs buckled beneath me.

I landed heavily on the floor, my head smacking the cool tiles hard.

Stars danced before my vision, my head throbbed and I became vaguely aware of a soft, warm object pressing against my chest.

I blinked down, trying to clear my vision, and my eyes met a huge pair of violet ones, peering from underneath black bangs, "Brandon, wha –"

A loud shattering sound cut me off, and my eyes squeezed shut instinctively as glass rained down on the two of us, my arms wrapping tightly around the girl on top of me.

It was silent for a fraction of a second, all I heard was Alice's shallow breathing and the frantic pounding of my own heart thundering in my ears. There was just me and her – not moving, not thinking, not talking.

My mind registered one tiny, insignificant fact in those moments.

_Alice Brandon smells nice._

Then the world erupted around us.

"Mr Whitlock?! Miss Brandon, are you Ok?!"

There was shouting and screaming, panic everywhere making my ears hurt and my head spin. Alice was gone from my arms and I was pulled to my feet.

"What...what happened?"

That was my voice, but it sounded disjointed. Separate from my mind – I wasn't even aware that I had spoken.

"There must have been a mistake in your experiment – the solution overflowed and caught fire. You're lucky Miss Brandon has fast reflexes and pulled you both to the floor, otherwise you would have ended up with a face full of hot glass and some very nasty burns."

_Sure._

********

"I can't believe I have to stay behind for an hour with _you."_

"Believe me Whitlock, I'm enjoying it a hell of a lot less than you are."

"Somehow I doubt it. Who's fault is it again?"

"Yours! You're the one who added ALL of the powder! I told you not to add too much!"

_She did? When was this?_

"Whitlock," she sighed, "You want to pass this class, right?"

I nodded grudgingly.

"Well to do that you're going to have to start fucking listening to me!"

"Fine!" I half shouted, throwing down my pen in exasperation, "Now please show me how the fuck I even start this experiment, so I don't fail this assignment too."

"Alright," her pointy nose wrinkled slightly, "And next time could you please wash before sitting next to me, you smell like a prostitute."

I sniffed my shirt collar; it smelt like... "Maria."

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the bubbling test tubes, "Like I said. Prostitute."

I snorted, "Hey," I said with false indignation, "Don't talk about her like that."

"Why do you care?"

"She's my..."

But I broke off. What _was _Maria?

I'd never been one to feel the need to label a relationship before, but hell we were definitely _something._

"Friend," I finished lamely.

It was her turn to snort, "Yeah. Right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, you're Jasper Whitlock. You don't have _friends._ You have cronies, you have followers and you have girls who throw themselves at you. But you don't have _friends."_

_I knew you were a bitch, but ouch. That stung._

"I have friends," I muttered. "Aro. Marcus. Felix."

"Follower. Wannabe. Bodyguard. When's the last time any of them were at your house, and you were doing something other than drinking and picking up girls?"

"They don't come to my house," I said stiffly, averting my eyes from her and barely paying attention as I wrote the date.

"And why not?"

"Personal reasons!" I hissed, pressing my pen hard onto the page.

"Do they know these _personal reasons? _Or do they just ring you up when they want you?"

I stood up abruptly, my chair falling to the ground with a bang, "If you know so much about friendship _Alice Brandon, _then why the fuck do you spend every minute with a different person? Why do you feel the need to have a platonic friendship with everybody, never settling? What are you running from?"

"I'm not running from anything."

Her voice was weak, lacking conviction, and I knew I had her.

"Of course not."

"Speaking of running from things, how's your father doing?"

I saw red.

Before she had time to blink let alone wipe the smug grin off her face, I had pinned her against the wall behind her by her thin arms. My face was inches from hers, my eyes narrowed in anger and hers widened in fear.

My breathing was laboured, coming in short bursts.

"Don't. Talk. About. My. Father. Again. Got it?"

Her face had paled even further, and she swallowed.

"Answer me!" I snarled, my nails digging into her arms as I pressed her harder against the wall.

"I won't. I promise."

It was barely more than a whisper, but it echoed loudly in my ears.

"_Answer me Lizzie! What do you think you're doing, disrespecting me in my own household?! Have I taught you nothing over the past few years?!_

"_I'm sorry!" Her voice was a strangled cry, "I didn't mean anything by it!"_

"_Well you won't make that mistake again will you?!"_

"_I won't! I promise!"_

"Jasper?"

I was backed against the wall on the otherside of the classroom. My eyes closed, my breath coming in short gasps.

_No. No no no no NO! I can't be like him! Not this much!_

_**I told you Jasper, I always said so. You are your father's son through and through.**_

"I'm not." I whispered, "I'm not, I'm not."

"You're not what?"

I opened my eyes, barely able to discern her face through the blurry veil of tears.

"I'm not my father."

Her expression was twisted – sadness and sorrow. Concern and worry.

"I know. I'm...I'm sorry I mentioned him. I really am."

I nodded, my head falling back onto the cold stone of the wall again.

"I really don't even know anything. I just knew that you moved from Texas a few years ago because of...something to do with him. I'm sorry."

"It's a small town – people talk," I muttered, "It's not your fault."

There was a pause, and I opened my eyes again to see her fiddling with the hem of her shirt awkwardly, her eyes darting around the classroom, looking anywhere but at me.

"I...um. You can go? If you want..."

It came out more like a question.

"I can finish up here, I know the practical and I can give you the results tomorrow?"

I knew it was her way of trying to say sorry, without prying and I was thankful.

"Sure," I nodded, grabbing my bag and she smiled tentatively as I turned away and headed for the door.

"Oh and Brandon?" I turned back to face her as I reached the door.

"Yeah?" She glanced up.

"Thank you."

"It's alright Whitlock."


	5. Night Reconnaissance

Disclaimer: No. Never.

It makes me sad when people favourite my story without reviewing. I don't mind, but an unhappy author makes for a less productive author :)

I'm sorry for the lack of J/A action going on, but I promise we'll get there. Just remember that they practically hate each other, he's slightly involved with Maria and his home life is really holding him down. You think this is bad, there's gonna be shed-loads of drama coming up soon!

Songs for this chapter is –

Time is Running Out – Muse

Spiralling – Keane

And also, the song that works for this whole story is Night Terror – Laura Marling. It is the quintessential J/A song for their situation, and it works so well. Go listen, it's beautiful.

******

Seven am on Friday morning, and I was awoken by an ear-splitting scream. I jerked awake, my head pounding.

"No! No, please!"

"Mother!" I cried, leaping out of bed and sprinting for my door, throwing it open and running down the corridor.

The door to her room was as firmly shut as it ever is, but I could still hear her muffled whimpers and cries through the solid wood before I opened it, "Mother?"

She was curled under the blankets, a sobbing and trembling pile of covers, "Jazzy?" she whimpered.

"I'm here mother, it's Ok."

I lowered myself onto the bed next to her, as her large brown eyes peered out from under the covers at me, "Jazzy he's coming for me. He...he always said he would!"

I wrapped my arms around her, "Mother it's Ok. He's never gonna get near us again, I promise. I won't let him."

"Don't leave me alone Jazzy. Please don't leave me with him."

"I'm not going anywhere mother."

******

I jolted awake a few hours later, my heart thumping. I glanced quickly at the bed across the room from the armchair I had drifted off in, at my mother's sleeping form.

She was still the same as she had been 3 hours ago when I'd given her the sleeping pills to help her calm down, so what had woken me?

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

_Oh right. Probably that._

"Hello?"

My voice was rough and grating, I flinched.

"Alright mate? Volterra?"

I rolled my eyes. Do these idiots have any sense of originality?

"Yeah. Alright."

"See you in ten."

I flipped the phone shut, and pushed myself up from the chair, making my way over to my mother. I kissed her once on the forehead, made sure the bottle of sleeping pills next to her bed had no more than three in it, twitched the curtains shut over a slit of light and closed the door firmly behind me as I left.

Once in my room I pulled on a green button down shirt and black jeans, pushing my feet into my black Chuck Taylors, grabbed my cigarettes, a bottle of vodka and my car keys, before leaping down the stairs three at a time and throwing myself into my car.

I hated the old Chevy pick-up, I really did. But when we left Texas I put all my money aside for emergencies. and stuck with the rusting piece of crap to save money.

Volterra was the all-ages club ten minutes from my place. If they liked the look of you they let you in, and if you were in you got served. Easy. And also the reason for groups of wasted thirteen year old girls in mini skirts stumbling home at 3 am every weekend, but hey; no one complained.

I parked, leaping from the car with a cigarette between my lips and the open bottle in my hand, heading for the group of guys I could see lingering by the wall.

"Jasper!" they slurred as I approached, and I raised a hand in greeting, before veering off towards the doors and hoping they had the initiative to follow.

"Alright Jasper?" the bouncer said as I reached him, purposely ignoring the vodka I was holding, and I gave him a nod before entering.

Volterra was like a different world.

The air was thick and smoky, creating a surreal haze above the crowds heads, the smell of booze and sweat hung off everybody ad bodies grinded and danced in the heat.

The girls didn't care, and the boys cared even less. The bartenders served free drinks to anyone with a low-cut top, and to be honest the music was shit.

I hated the place.

I settled myself in a booth at the back, watching the crowds as I drank, waiting for the alcohol to work its wonders and transform the hell of Volterra into a place with even the slightest bit more dignity.

_Wishful thinking there Jazz. This place is fucking hell on earth. _

I watched as Jane wrapped her arms around Felix's neck, moving her hips against his to the stuttering beat, as Gianna pinned Marcus to the opposite wall, attacking her mouth with his own.

My eyes glanced around the rest of the room, picking out familiar faces; girls I'd shagged, guys I'd spoken to, the usual.

I noticed a skinny brunette sitting at the bar, wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt, a bottle of water in her hand. Out of place and looking very awkward.

I wondered what the hell she was doing here, when a very familiar dark haired girl danced over to her, wrapping her arms around her neck and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

_Jesus Christ Alice Brandon, wasted much?_

She spun away from the brunette, who rolled her eyes and sipped her water, dancing to the other end of the bar and ordering something from the bartender, who made no secret about staring down her top.

"Alice!" The brunette moaned, "Please stop drinking! This is your last one, then no more!"

She stuck her tongue out, "Stop being such a spoil sport Bella!"

_Bella...Bella...Bella Swan? The Chief's daughter? She's friends with Alice?_

"Alice please! I love you and all, but I don't exactly revel in clearing up your vomit from my bathroom floor AGAIN."

"Ok, one; _please _don't talk about vomit. 'Cause...ew. And two; that happened one time!"

"Alice, it's happened twice this week already."

_Brandon gets drunk during the week? Who knew the little bookworm had it in her._

Alice pulled a face, turned away from Bella to smile sweetly at the sleazy bartender, whose face I was seriously considering pummelling after the look he gave her as he handed her a shot glass.

She downed the shot, slammed the glass back on the bar, and turned back to Bella, "Look Bells," she slurred, "You, go home. I'll get home myself."

"Alice, I'm not leaving you here!"

Before I realised I was moving, my legs were carrying me the 6 feet towards the bar.

"Whitlock!" Alice announced as she caught sight of me, "Enjoying the fresh air?"

"Oh indeed my lady, quite pleasant this evening."

Bella gave me a strange look as Alice collapsed into giggles, leaning into my shoulder.

"I completely agree kind sir." She plucked the still three-quarters full vodka bottle from my hand, and took a large gulp. Bella rolled her eyes.

"Bella, I can get Alice home if you want to leave," I offered, pushing her up slightly as she slipped sideways off the stool, "I've not drunk much and I've got my car."

Her eyes narrowed on my slightly, before returning back to Alice, who had put the top back on the vodka bottle, and was currently holding it pressed against her eye, attempting to peer through the blurry glass.

"Alice, is it Ok if I leave you with Whitlock?"

"Whitlock? He doesn't have any friends," She slurred with a bright smile.

"Always the charmer Brandon."

"Alice, call me as soon as you get home, promise?"

"Cross my heart, something die. Stick a needle in my eye, OUCH!"

Her hands pressed against her eye, she pouted at me, "I stuck my eye to hard."

"I swear to God darlin', you are a child," I said, pulling her into a standing position off the stool, and taking the bottle from her as she lolled against my arm.

"Jazzy?"

_Oh I'd know that voice anywhere._

"Evenin' Maria."

"What's...this?" she said, raising an eyebrow sceptically, and looking at Alice with something akin to mild disgust on her perfect face.

"Alice Brandon!" she smiled, holding out her hand and stumbling slightly as she let go of my left arm, which she had been previously gripping tightly with both hands.

"Pleasure," Maria said drily, eyeing Alice's hand as though she was worried she would catch something, before turning back to me, "Jazz why don't you ditch the geek and come dance with me?"

"I promised I'd get Alice home," I muttered, as Maria's arms peeled me away from Alice's hands, and she stood there looking lost.

She snorted, "what are you, her mother? She'll be fine. And if not, well who cares?"

"I'll be fine Whitlock. I didn't want to leave yet anyway!"

And she was gone, weaving and wobbling her way through the crowds, disappearing from sight.

"What a freak," Maria laughed, before taking my hand and leading me onto the dance floor, her hips swaying to the music. She pulled my hands around her waist, moving to the beat with her back against my chest and her fingers in my hair, but her moves were practised; typical and boring, and my mind was drifting away to thoughts of the tiny dark-haired girl, drunk and alone.

******

I thumped my head on the wall of the toilets, hoping the cool tiles would knock me out of whatever crazy-place my mind had recently entered.

_Why the fuck would you turn down a night at Maria's?_

Oh right, because I was _worried _about the annoying girl I had lost two hours ago, who I now had no fucking clue where she might be.

_Don't act like you're not relieved. Just a little bit..._

Ok, Maria was gorgeous and everything, with legs up to her chin and tits that bounced even when she was sitting still, but get her into bed and she was as boring as...well, anything.

I knew I was a good lay, hell girls told me all the time. But having a girl lying unmoving and silent underneath you, because she won't let you shag her in anything other than the missionary, really takes it out of a guy.

I don't know whether she was unaware that she was so unresponsive, and she genuinely thought I enjoyed it, but fuck that shit got boring.

Hell we even looked good together. Walking down the school corridors with her you'd think we owned the place. Fucking gorgeous the both of us, heads turned and crowds stopped, but she was _boring. _

I mean, I could have _maybe _overlooked the bad sex if I could at least have a good conversation with her. But the only thing she cared about was her hair and her nails. She was so fucking shallow it was unreal.

And for some fucking reason my mind kept drifting back to the pixie who danced instead of walked, sang instead of talked and got under my skin so much that I would scratch until I bled just to be rid of her.

And it didn't fucking work.

The sound of someone falling through the door alerted me, and I stuck my head out of the stall in time to see Alice Brandon, the one and only, fall into the stall next to me and throw up noisily in the toilet.

_Niiice._

"Brandon? Still alive in there?"

There was a pause of about thirty seconds, before... "I think I threw up half my spleen. Do I need my spleen?"

"Fuck it, if I know."

"Well if I suddenly drop dead you'll at least know what to put on the gravestone."

"I see your sense of humour went the same way as your spleen."

"Yeah. Along with your libido," she stuck her head out of the door, smiling slightly, "Where's your girlfriend?"

I rolled my eyes, "Fuck knows."

She nodded, pulling herself up off the floor and making her way to the sink, where she rinsed her mouth out from the taps. I pulled a face.

I took the few moments she had her head in the sink washing her face, to look at her properly. Her very short, tight black dress showed off her miniature, but still perfect figure. The dark fabric made her porcelain skin glow, and her eyes look bluer than usual, and as she turned around I caught a glimpse of her delicate collar-bones.

Pushing back the sudden urge to run my lips across them, I held the door open for her, "Shall we?"

She looked at me cautiously, "What are you doing?"

"I promised Bella I'd get you home. And home is where I'll get you."

"Mhmm." She ignored my outstretched arm, and stumbled out the door of her own accord, apparently all the alcohol wasn't close to completely leaving her system and the four inch heels weren't helping.

She managed to make it out the door of the club and into the cool night air a few feet down the road – in the wrong direction I might add – before she stopped, flopped to the floor and lay on her back on the ground.

"Too much moving," she murmured as I sat next to her.

"Alice come on, we should go back to my car."

She shook her head vehemently, "I wanna sleep here. Cold and nice."

She trailed off with a sleepy smile, her breathing evening out until it was slow and steady.

_Fuck._

I could only think of three options, and to be perfectly honest I didn't like any of them.

_One: Leave her here on the street at three am, in the cold._

_Two: Get her to the car and drive around aimlessly, hoping that her address will magically come to you._

_Or three: Take her back to your house, let her sleep the vodka off and take her home tomorrow when she is sober._

"Bugger."

_You are so gonna regret this tomorrow._


	6. Closer

Disclaimer: As soon as Twilight goes up on Ebay I swear to you that I will be RIGHT IN THERE. Until that day however, it all belongs to SM.

This chapter is a bit of filler, a bit more of Jasper's history, and a basic lead up to introducing the rest of the characters!!

I am blown away with the response this story is getting, you are all absolutely awesome!!

Music for this chapter….

Circus – Britney Spears (yes, I went there.)

On The Radio – Regina Spektor

Wrap Myself Around You – Kill Hannah

********

You had two rules. Two fucking rules, how hard was it to follow them? Not only have you brought a girl home. You took her dress off, washed it, and let her sleep in your bed.

"I know!" I moaned into my hands, muffling my voice with my palms so I didn't wake up the sleeping beauty currently snoring in my bed.

And yes. I meant snoring.

Ok so they were soft snores, whispery and quiet, and quite cute. But still snores.

And for such a small girl it was shocking that she was taking up so much of my bed. She was spread out diagonally, with limbs thrown haphazardly around her, leaving very little room for anything else on there.

Which was why I was currently sitting in the chair next to my bed, waiting for her to wake up.

Like I had been for the past 3 hours.

My fingers were tensed around the seat of the chair, ready to move at the first hit of movement from either the bed next to me, or the room down the hall. I didn't feel like having to introduce Alice Brandon to Elizabeth Whitlock.

Don't get me wrong; I was in no way ashamed of my mother. I wasn't _hiding _her from Alice. In fact, if I had to choose anybody to introduce my mother to, Alice would probably be an appropriate choice.

But no one met my mother. No one.

I sighed, leaning back in the chair and cursing the fact that I had, in some state of ingenious, thought it would be fun to tear up and burn half the chair cushion that would have currently been protecting my back from several painful splinters.

I winced.

Alice made a quiet, mewling noise and burrowed her head deeper into my pillow, her dark hair spreading like a spiky halo around her pale skin.

_Maybe it's not best if she wakes up to you staring at her like a complete pervert, Whitlock._

I sprang from the chair as soon as the though occurred to me, not wanting to make this situation any worse than it inevitably would be when she woke up.

I settled on sitting instead next to the unused desk on the other side of the room, and starting up my old battered laptop.

I let my head fall back onto the back of the chair as it started up, running my fingers through my hair and rubbing my temples.

Over the years I'd developed quite a tolerance for alcohol and the small amount that I'd consumed the night before wasn't enough to give me even the slightest hangover, but I suspected that my combination of vivid dreams resulting in sleepless nights, smoking and too much alcohol was starting to take its toll on me.

I felt like shit.

I was tired.

I was tired of it all.

I was tired of the fake attitudes of my schoolmates, the way they knew nothing about me and yet claimed to be my friend. The way they were with me for the popularity.

I was tired off pissing people off, tired of the fact that I didn't manage to do anything without causing ramifications for anyone else.

I was tired of shagging random girls. I was tired of the shit music at Volterra. I was tired of the fact tat I didn't manage to make it through a night sleeping peacefully.

I was fucking _tired _of it all.

My gaze fell upon Alice again, and I sighed.

What the fuck was it about this tiny girl that intrigued me so much?! I'd managed to get through nearly 5 years of school without any inclination that she actually existed.

And now I knew her, I couldn't get her out of my head.

All day, fucking every single day she was there, in my mind. Her huge purpley-blue eyes, her pink lips that were just a little too full, her thick black eyelashes that were so long they brushed her cheeks.

Fuck, I blew off a night with my…girlfriend to make sure Alice got home safely.

I actually _cared _what the hell happened to her.

Her left leg twitched underneath the blanket, and I froze. I was _not _looking forward to this next bit. Not at fucking all.

Her arms stretched over her head, her hands clasped tightly into fists and her back arches adorably as a quiet yawn left her mouth. Her eyes blinked sleepily a few times, as they focused on me.

There was a second of silence, as what was an almost smile graced her features as she looked at me.

Then she froze.

"What the FUCK Whitlock?!"

She snapped bolt upright in my bed, the blanket falling down around her waist and revealing her bra-clad chest. I swallowed hard. She might be tiny, but _fuck me _she was proportioned perfectly.

Apparently staring at her wasn't a good move on my part, because before I knew it she was letting out an outraged shriek and sprang from my bed before darting towards me.

I leaped from my chair and backed away slightly. For a tiny person, when she's advancing on you it was pretty scary.

Her eyes was flashing with anger, her hair standing up in all directions around her head as she, regardless to the fact that she was wearing only underwear, marched towards me, poking me hard in the chest with her finger.

"ONE, Whitlock. Where the FUCK are my clothes?! TWO, Where the FUCK am I?! AND THREE, WHY THE FUCK AM I WITH YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE?!"

"Brandon I –"

"I'M NOT FUCKING FINISHED!"

_Christ on a fucking bike she's got one hell of a voice box. I wonder what she's like when – _

_- Really not the fucking time._

Her finger continued to prod me in the chest, pushing me backwards a few inches with every poke until I was pressed against the wall, her body inches from mine.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?! WHERE IS BELLA, I KNOW FOR A FACT I WENT OUT WITH HER AND SHE _WOULD NOT_ LET ME LEAVE WITH YOU OF ALL PEOPLE!! WHY WAS I LYING PRACTICALLY NAKED IN YOUR BED, AND WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU STARING AT ME AS I SLEPT!?"

She stopped, her nostrils flaring in anger, her lips pressed tightly together as she glared at me.

But by this time, I was getting pissed off. My temper had been pulled as tightly as I thought possible when it came to this girl, and it was just a matter of time before it snapped.

I narrowed my own eyes at her, and spun her around so she was pressed against the wall and I was towering over her, one of hands on her waist, the other gripping her upper arm as I held her there.

"First of all, _Brandon,_" I started, my voice spitting with venom, "Maybe if you fucking shut your mouth for once and let me talk, I could answer your questions.

And, as a matter of fact, Bella was perfectly happy to let you leave with me last night, after making me swear I would get you home safely. Which I have to say was a fucking effort after you passed out on the pavement outside Volterra, and fuck knows where you live! Not only did I bring you back to my house and let you sleep in my bed, I also washed your fucking dress after you puked all over yourself! And I was watching you sleep because it's one of the few times I can actually stand to look at you, especially seeing as you don't scream at me like a fucking banshee for being a decent person for once!"

A long silence followed my words. Her lips were still set in a tight line, but something had flickered in her eyes as I spoke.

I had a sneaking suspicion that the reason she was currently chewing hard on her bottom lip was to stop herself saying something almost thankful to me.

Now it was just a battle of wills, to see who would look away first.

I became increasingly aware of our close proximity as the seconds ticked by. My body was pressed flush against hers, crushing her almost into the wall, and with every breath she took her chest pressed against mine.

The fingers of my left hand were curled around the side of her waist above her hipbone, clenched over the silky smooth skin.

Without realising what I was doing, I rubbed my fingers in tiny circles on her back, my thumb massaging the spot just above her hipbones.

Her breathing stuttered slightly, the warm air blowing across my collarbone.

I stared harder into my eyes, the circles growing larger as I rubbed harder against her skin.

Her eyes fluttered slightly, but stayed open, her head rolling back to hit the wall with a gentle thud and her breath coming out in a soft sigh.

One of my legs slipped in between hers, pushing her legs slightly apart as she arched her back, digging the fingers of her free hand deep into my upper arm.

My right hand slid up her arm towards her throat, where I brushed my thumb across the stuttering pulse beating in her neck, and she swallowed hard against my fingers her eyes still burning into mine.

Her lips parted slightly, drawing in a deep breath, her chest heaving.

My computer bleeped, telling me I had a message alert, and her eyes jerked from mine, snapping to the computer and back twice in a split second.

Her fingers tensed against my arm, and she pushed me backwards off her with such force that I stumbled backwards several feet.

She snatched her folded dress off the side and ran.

Seconds later I heard the front door slam.

I fell backwards onto the bed which smelled like her, and wondered what the fuck had just happened.

********

The weekend passed agonisingly slowly and I found myself constantly staring at the clock, wishing time would go just that little bit faster.

I wanted to get to school and see Alice.

I wanted to ask her what the fuck happened in my bedroom.

I wanted to push her up against a wall in any random storage cupboard and finish whatever the hell it was that we had started.

And if she even tried to speak I was going to have to tape her mouth shut.

Fucking hell, in the total of about 4 minutes, she had made me feel a hell of a lot better than every single other girl I had fucked, and neither of us had even been naked.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!_

_- Well said._

I spent the rest of Sunday screening calls from Maria, cleaning as much of the house as I could be bothered and collecting half empty bottles of alcohol and cigarette packets from around the house, where I'd dropped them after coming home.

I sat in the kitchen, a room I hardly ever entered, and contemplated the loneliness of my house.

Sundays would usually be spent getting over hangovers, or out with the guys doing whatever we could get away with in broad daylight.

Vandalism, theft, you name it; we did it.

But after 4 years, it was almost nice to just sit and do _nothing. _

Be a normal 18 year old kid.

Except I would never be normal.

Normal kids didn't have secret mothers hidden away upstairs, too fragile and scared of the outside world to even open her curtains during the day.

Normal kids didn't live in fear of the day their bastard of a father would be released from prison and come after them.

_Normal _was a word that would never be put in the same sentence as 'Jasper Whitlock'.

"Fuck it," I muttered, taking the stairs three at a time and heading for the bathroom cupboard, and the stash of sleeping pills.

My mother was spinning around the kitchen, her flowery skirt dancing with bright colour as the sun shone through the slats in the blinds.

_I was seven years old, sitting cross-legged on the kitchen table and laughing as I watched mother melt chocolate over a pan of steaming water._

"_Almost done, Jazzy!" she sang as she crossed to the fridge, pulling out everything we had, "The feast will be ready soon!"_

_I laughed more, clapping my hands together. My head was swimming with happiness, more than I had ever felt before._

_She turned around, her face lit up with a beautiful smile as she held out the bowl of chocolate, "You want to check to see if it tastes ok?"_

_I nodded vigorously, reaching for the bowl._

_A faint sound cut through our bubble of happiness, making mother's smile freeze on her face and the hands holding the bowl tremble._

_The sound of a key in a lock._

"_No!" she whispered, so quietly I don't think she meant to say it, "No, he's supposed to be away this week!"_

_The bowl fell with a crash to the floor, burning hot chocolate splattering my shoes, the table legs, the wall._

_A figure was casting a shadow over the kitchen, its length and girth making the kitchen seem smaller than it was, and I turned slowly._

"_Daddy?"_

"_Having a little party eh, Lizzie?"_

"_No…I just…"_

_She was trembling so much she was almost a blur, her hands twisting in her apron as her gaze shifter around the room, never once looking at me._

_I wanted to reach out and hug her, but she was too far away, growing smaller and smaller the longer he looked at her._

"_Go upstairs and play Jazz!" She said, her voice higher than normal, shaking as much as she was._

_I looked at the door, but he was blocking it. I had nowhere to go._

"_No, I think the boy should stay. Find out what happens to wives when they don't listen."_

_He walked towards her, his long strides taking him the length of the small room in seconds. I dashed for the door as soon as he moved, running as fast as my legs could take me._

_My hand froze on the handle, and I turned._

"_Go Jazzy!" my mother cried, but I shook my head._

_He smirked, seizing my mother's arm and dragging her towards the oven, where the gas stove was still burning, "He wants to see what happens. He's curious you see, just like I was."_

"_No!"_

_I couldn't see what he was doing, his back was shielding my view, but I saw him pull my mothers arm in front of him, towards the gas fire, heard her scream._

_I could imagine the rest._

_I curled in the corner, my hands over my eyes, my eyes pressed against my knees, my tears soaking through the fabric of my shorts._

_I could still hear her._

I woke with a hard thump, as I collided with the floor.

My sheets were twisted around my waist, my arm thrown over my eyes and my heart beating so hard it hurt my ears.

Why did I have to relive every fucking memory of my childhood in vivid clarity every fucking night, while he slept in a jail cell, feeling no remorse over what he did?

What did she do to deserve the fear she lived in every day, the nightmares and memories scaring her so much that she couldn't leave the room let alone the house, retreating inside her mind.

Why did we have to suffer because of him?

********

She was late to History.

I knew she was in today, I'd seen the top of her spiky head bobbing down the corridor earlier today.

Which meant she was late because she was trying to avoid me.

Avoid any possible time we might have before the lesson started where we might speak.

I smirked as she barrelled her way through the door at top speed, breathless and panting, gasping some excuse about losing track of time in the library, and made her way to her seat at the back next to me.

Her eyes were fixed on the floor, didn't even glance in my direction as she sat down next to me and pulled out her books.

I guess I'm gonna have to make the first move then Brandon. Coward.

"Mornin' Brandon, how's the world treating you today?"

I tried not to focus on the flush of her cheeks and her heaving chest as she caught her breath.

"Fine. Thanks."

"Well you're talkative today."

She rolled her eyes, her breathing settling slightly, and took a deep breath as though steeling herself for something.

"Look. I want to apologise for how I acted on Saturday. I had no right to shout at you, when all you did was act the perfect gentleman. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions about…anything, and I'm very sorry."

_Wow._

My mouth was hanging open. I could feel it, and I didn't care.

That was all she had to say?!

I mean, fucking hell it was pretty impressive that she was apologising, she had balls that I didn't.

But she had nothing to say about what happened afterwards, whatever the fuck it was?!

"Anyway," she continued, still avoiding my eyes, "I've decided I know the perfect way to thank you. And no, you don't have a choice."

_Huh?_

"Huh?"

She smiled slightly, "I was thinking. About how you think you know everything about everyone, but really you know fuck all?"

"And here, I thought we were getting along so well."

"Shut up. No. I've decided that I'm going to tell you – no better. I'm going to show you."

"Show me…show me what?"

"People. The ordinary people here at school. The ones you think you know, the ones you've grown up with for the past 5 years. They all have stories, they all have secrets. And I'm going to let you in on a few, and maybe then you'll start to act more like a human being."

_Holy shit._

"Close your mouth Whitlock, you'll catch more than flies like that."

"…And you say I have no say in this…?"

"None at all, no."

_Then bring it on._

**A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUUUUN.**

**Yeah, Ok.**

**NOW, the apologise for the HORRENDOUS gap between updates, I'm giving you guys a chance to say who you want to be introduced into the story first.**

**Yes, all of our beloved characters have hidden stories and dirty little secrets in this FF, and I need your help in deciding who J & A should meet first.**

**So, leave me a review saying who you would like to learn more about;**

**BELLA?**

**ROSALIE?**

**EMMETT?**

**EDWARD?**

**You're choice ;)**

**And let me warn you, they're all pretty angsty!! **


	7. Ordinary

**Authors Note:** *Grabs Emmett as human shield, and hides behind him from angry reviewers with pitchforks and torches*

Ok. So I have no excuse for making you wait so long, I am genuinely ashamed of myself.

I'm so sorry :(

You can verbally abuse me, if you think it will make you feel better…go for it!

Ok, a surprising amount of you wanted to learn about Emmett and Rosalie, and I agree. Their stories in this are particularly good…

So I've gone for Emmett first of all…

********

"Maria! Can you just shut the fuck up for a minute!"

Her dark eyes narrowed, and the next thing I knew my head was flung to the side, and stars were sparking in front of my eyes. A sharp pain lanced across my cheek.

"Don't fucking speak to me like that Jasper!"

It had been nearly four days since Alice's request of 'showing me people's stories', and she still hadn't explained to me what exactly it entailed.

Four days of complete, non-stop belittling and interrogation on Maria's part. She wanted to know who I was out with, where I was going, who I was talking to.

And she always found a way to somehow bring Brandon back into the conversation. Apparently the 5'9 Spanish model felt intimidated by the barely 5'1, pale-skinned pixie from Phoenix.

And Maria wasn't used to feeling intimidated.

_Why the fuck is she so pissy?_

_- Well if I fucking knew that we wouldn't be having this conversation._

_Fuck off._

Me and Maria had never said we were exclusive, yet she had found herself under the misapprehension that she owned me, even though I knew for a fact that she had shagged a good third of the guys in our year in the few short weeks she'd been here.

Of course, she didn't know that I knew; apparently guys have an unspoken bond that girls can't understand, and I'd had several reports of my 'girlfriend's' behaviour as the days went on. Some of them from guys I'd never even spoken to.

And honestly? I couldn't give a fuck.

"Come on, we've got school," I said, avoiding her eyes and stalking to the door.

Her fingers caught me around the wrist before I could leave, "Hey Jazzy. I'm sorry babe,"

_Don't. Call. Me. Jazzy._

She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me against her as she pressed herself into the wall, weaving her fingers into my hair.

"I just like people to know that you belong to me, not them," she whispered in my ear, running her tongue across my earlobe. I held in my shudder.

Her hands were under my shirt, travelling slowly across the skin above my jeans; but it wasn't right. It wasn't her body I could feel pressed against mine, wasn't her scent I could smell wafting from her skin to my nose.

I could feel Alice, her soft curves against my hips, her flowery sugar-and-girl scent filling my senses. My eyes closed of their own accord, and I imagined it was her. A haze washed over me, I was stuck between what I could remember, and what I wished was happening.

_Alice._

"Alice."

"What?" A voice murmured into my ear. The wrong voice.

Maria.

My eyes snapped open, Alice's face floating in front of Maria's for almost a moment, before the harsh reality set in.

"I don't belong to anyone Maria," I growled in her ear, pushing her off me, "Least of all you."

********

I didn't even see Alice Brandon until lunchtime. She was seated directly opposite me a few tables in front, her cheek resting in the palm of her hand as her eyes skimmed the pages of the book on the table. Her lunch was pushed carelessly to the side, forgotten.

A boy with messy brown hair sat next to her, picking sullenly at his food, making an occasional comment to which she would sometimes nod or shake her head.

I cocked my head to the side as I watched them; I wondered what they were talking about, did they need to talk or was their friendship so solid that they could sit in comfortable silence without feeling awkward?

The boy span the top of his lemonade bottle between his fingers, never glancing up as he watched it twirl. His lips moved as he said something to her, she froze for a split second; her eyes shifting from the page to meet his. Then she laughed, throwing her head back as peals of the sound rang from her lips. They echoed across the busy cafeteria, loud to my ears but no one else seemed to notice as she shook in her chair.

The boy next to her grinned, chuckling as he watched her grasp her sides and catch her breath.

An intense wave of jealousy hit me.

Why did it make me so angry, that this boy could make her laugh and smile like that, something that I had never managed to do. I didn't care about Brandon, I didn't even particularly like her.

_Stop lying to yourself._

_- What, I **don't **like her._

_Yeah. Ok. So why is it that everytime you look at the wall in your bedroom you think of her._

_- Because for some insane reason one day, I thought it would be a great idea to press her up against it. And even though it was barely sexual, she managed to make me feel a fuckload of a lot better than every other girl I've shagged. Ever._

_Yeah. You just want to shag her, that's all this is._

She was getting up, her still full tray in one hand and her book in the other. She wrapped one arm around the boy's shoulders and kissed him on the forehead with a grin. He smiled with her, rubbing her elbow where it rested in the crook of his neck, and muttered something to her as she left.

She grinned as she walked away, bypassing a table of loud jocks, and all the cheerleaders that weren't at our table today. She placed her tray of food down in front of the biggest guy, the one with muscles bulging from his sleeves, and gave him a wink.

He winked back at her, said something, and slapped her gently on the back as she walked on, before devouring her uneaten food. I raised my eyebrows slightly; did Brandon have some sort of secret code with every fucking person here? Did she really make friends with everyone?

She was approaching the door when someone caught her elbow. Bella was jogging to catch up with her, pulling back slightly and smiling. Alice linked their arms together, and continued from the hall without so much as a glance in my direction.

But not Bella. Her eyes sought out mine through the crowds, as though she's known I would be watching Alice. Herr gaze burned into mine, her eyes filled with something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but just as she passed through the door to leave, she gave me a very slight, barely perceptible nod.

********

"You've gotta stop getting detentions."

Her voice was low, but it still came as a shock as I swept my books into my bag that evening, "Why are you still here Brandon?"

"Band practice," she replied, leaning against the door frame and holding up a guitar case that was the same size as her, "Ran late and I needed to wait for you anyway."

"Oh yeah?"

"Today's the day you meet your first human being."

I stood, pulled my bag onto my shoulder and stared at her.

"Fine, today's the day you meet someone real. Someone who isn't a mindless clone that follows you around. Someone –"

"Someone like you?" I cut her off.

"Well...sure. But you've already had the pleasure of meeting me."

"Yeah. There's something I'll never get out of my head," I rolled my eyes and walked to the door, took the strap of her guitar case in one hand and lifted it over my other shoulder. Who says chivalry is dead?

"What are you doing?" she said cautiously, as though worried that me doing something nice might end in the Apocalypse.

"Brandon, this case is bigger than you are. Some guys might be Ok with watching a fucking tiny girl haul this around all day, but not me. No matter how much I dislike said girl."

She gave me a half smile, and fell in to step beside me as we walked down the corridor, "Fine. But I have been carrying it around twice a week for three years without your help."

"Your car or mine?" I said as we reached the parking lot.

"Yours," She said, a slight smile gracing her lips. I nodded, and crossed the ground quickly to my car, Alice taking three steps to everyone of mine beside me.

I swung her guitar into the back seat of the car, and slid into the front seat. Alice jumped in beside me as I revved the ignition, "So, where to Miss Brandon?"

"Left here," she said as we left the school, "Head towards Chief Swan's house,"

"So...we're going to see Bella?"

"No. We're going to see someone who lives two streets away from Bella, but it's easier to direct when you're near her house."

"So...who are we going to see?"

She smiled vaguely, staring out the window as though fascinated with the trees and leaves flashing past us, the sporadic raindrops splattering the glass.

"We're going to see Emmett McCarty."

********

I knew Emmett McCarty by face and name. He was head of every sports team our school had, ensuring we won every tournament. He worked his way through the cheerleaders the same way I did, he was loud and boisterous and popular. He was also the huge muscled guy that Alice shared her lunch with earlier, I remembered.

And he most definitely would not be my first choice when choosing a real person.

Of course I'd never actually spoken to him. Five years of high school, occasional nods in corridors or if we saw each other at Volterra, but never a word had passed between us.

And as we stopped outside his house and I cut the engine, I was absolutely fucking terrified.

I can hold my own in a fight, but Emmett had nearly half a foot on me and at least twice the muscles. I liked to think that Alice would never intentionally lead me into something that could come off bad, but then again...

"You don't need to worry you know," She smiled from the seat next to me, "Em is basically a big teddy bear."

"A 6'7 teddy bear with the muscles of a body builder, and a guy that I've never spoken to in six years. And if you're anything to judge by, people get annoyed if I've never spoken to them."

She laughed.

She fucking laughed at me.

_Bitch._

"Stop being such a girl Whitlock. Emmett is not going to beat you up just 'cause you're never spoken to him, and suddenly arrive unannounced on his doorstep one evening."

"Well you nearly did. Minus the...doorstep part."

She rolled her eyes, "Come on you coward," and jumped from the car, skipping up the path of the neat suburban house we had stopped in front of.

I took a deep breath, annoyed at myself for getting so scared of the potential giant I had to make nice with. But I didn't know how to _make nice. _

I was screwed.

I walked in slow motion up the path, procrastinating as much as I could before I got to the door. Alice turned around and stuck her tongue out at me, before reaching up and ringing the bell.

There was a beat of silence.

Then the door flew open and revealed Emmett McCarty himself, huge and grinning, with dimples and everything, just inside the door.

"Alice!" He boomed, his voice vibrating all the way through me, "You're late!"

"Yeah well Whitlock here had _detention. _And me and Edward had band practice."

At some point during her sentence her speech became muffled, as the curly haired giant scooped her up in his arms and gave her a bone-crushing hug. I winced in sympathy.

Emmett's eyes fell on me as I walked the last few steps towards him, Alice's figure disappearing down the hallway and through a door, leaving us alone.

I shifted from foot to foot slightly, before holding out a hand towards him,"Jasper Whitlock. I don't think we've ever...met. Properly."

"I know who you are," he said stiffly, his eyes darting over my face. I swallowed, hard.

His face split into a bright grin, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a one-armed man hug, clapping me on the back and knocking all my breath from my lungs.

"Nice to meet you man. Emmett McCarty."

"Pleasure," I gasped, extracting myself from his arm.

He grinned again, his whole face lighting up and jerked his head sideways, indicating that I should follow him.

The house was perfect; neat and clean as though it was kept in order by a fifties housewife with a feather duster. There was a framed picture of a man and a woman on the shelf, who I guessed were his parents, and several other photos of children through various stages in their lives around the walls.

We entered the front room, and I held in a slight gasp at the scene before me.

Alice was sitting cross-legged on the floor, with a huge picture book in one hand, and a child on her lap. Two more children were running in circles around the room, and yet another was curled up in the center of an elaborate train-set clutching two halves of a train.

"Jasper this is Annabelle," Alice said, gently nudging the young girl on her lap, who smiled at me before turning back to the book.

"That's Juliet and Finn," Emmett pointed to the girl and boy running around the room, "And that is Anthony," nodding at the boy with the train.

It wasn't hard to see the family resemblance; the dark eyes and curly hair, the dimples. The whole family was adorable and beautiful, but I didn't understand why Alice had decided that a normal American family was worth showing to me. I thought she was going to show me something traumatic.

As though they could tell what I was wondering, Emmett and Alice turned in unison and smiled woefully at me, "I'll tell you my story when I've put the kids to bed," he said.

"First we get to play with them, and we get some of Emmett's amazing cooking!" Alice smiled, ruffling Annabell's curls, "In the meantime, play with a child. Be nice!"

I pulled a face at her.

"Ok," I said, paused, and decided sat in front of Anthony on the floor.

"Hey there," I said quietly.

He blinked his huge eyes at me, and chewed nervously on his thumb, before thrusting the train in my direction, "You want to play?" he mumbled over his finger.

"Sure," I grinned, "Haven't played with trains for a while."

_Jasper Whitlock, you are eighteen. Stop playing with fucking trains._

_- Fuck off, I'm having fun._

**A/N: This chapter was getting a little too long, so I'm splitting it into two. The other half of Emmett's story will be in the next half, which I swear on my laptop will be up soon!**

**Meanwhile, thoughts, suggestions, anything you want to say!**

**And also, whose story next? **


	8. One Is The Loneliest Number

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. And if I did, they would be human & the vampires wouldn't sparkle. (I still cant get my head around that)**

**I am honestly scared for my life when it comes to you lot. I know I should have a fantastically awful excuse for the months and months and months of no updates. In all honesty I do have a whole bunch of true excuses, but they sound kind of lame.**

**I have this new job, where I work 4 days a week, and its so exhausting that all I manage to do on those days is work and sleep. **

**I was redecorating my bedroom for a few weeks, and putting together Ikea flat packed furniture takes a hell of a lot longer than expected.**

**My computer has suffered some sort of trauma, and the mouse pad the at key, the apostrophe and the delete buttons don't work. Which is incredibly irritating. **

**Our internet connection has been timing out every twenty minutes for the past two weeks, making it hard for one to actually use the internet at all. **

**And I'm going to stop with the excuses now, because I'm annoying myself. **

**But. Here, as promised, the other half of Emmett's story.....**

"Oh GOD this is good!" I mumbled through a mouthful, shovelling food into my mouth with such speed that Emmett had stopped eating to watch me.

Alice giggled.

"Seriously..this is...wow."

Ok, so it had been weeks, months even, since I last ate a proper, nourishing, hot home-cooked meal; and Emmett's plates of roasted peppers stuffed with rice and vegetables were quite possibly the most delicious thing I had ever consumed.

"Mmmm...mphllmpp!" I tried to say, causing another eruption of giggles from Alice who had cleared her plate a good twenty minutes ago.

"Don't speak with your mouth full," Emmett said automatically, before glancing up and grinning at me.

Ok, so maybe I was milking it a little bit. Not the deliciousness of the food, that was completely genuine, but how long it was taking me to eat. I didn't want to put my fork down and signal the start of what I could sense would be a serious conversation.

I didn't want to burst the delicate bubble of new friendship and naïve companionship that had settled around us over the past few hours.

Id played trains with Anthony for nearly an hour and a half, much to the amused glances of Alice and Emmett as I became more and more absorbed. Our McCarty-Whitlock Train Express Railway had become a multi-millionaire business, spreading through the whole of America (the rug covering the floor) and into Europe (the surface of the coffee table) much to the delight of the three children and two teenagers, who soon wanted to join in.

This was until a passing comment made during generic conversation informed Alice that I had only ever seen one Disney film – Hercules – and she recruited herself to be the person who would fill this apparently vital missing section of my childhood.

After sending the children running round the house to find us their two disc special edition copies of every Disney film they owned, Emmett and Alice sat me down in front of the television and forced me to watch.

After nearly three hours of Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, the children were drifting off to sleep around the room as the skies outside darkened.

The next ten minutes had been a whirlwind of baths, glasses of milk and flannel pyjamas, and the children were in bed and asleep before the timer even went off to tell us the food was ready.

"When the children are asleep," Emmett had said earlier.

They were asleep, which meant now I would find out the big secret.

It wasn't that I wasn't curious.

I just wondered if Emmett had known we would come round and force him to reveal his past; did Alice ring him after school and inform him, or did he volunteer.

Was his story hidden, or was it something that was vaguely known but never spoken about?

Were we intruding?

"Whitlock?"

Alice was snapping her fingers in front of my face, "You phased out."

"Just a bit," I muttered.

And I dropped my fork, and turned towards Emmett. He gave me a slight, sad smile.

"How long have we been going to the same school Jasper?"

I bit my lip; was he going to blame me for whatever was coming next? Had it somehow been my fault, just because Id never spoken to him?

"Six...six years?" I questioned faintly, even though I knew it was the right answer.

He nodded at me, "And I know we've never spoken – which I don't blame you for. I never chose to speak to you the same way you chose not to speak to me – but how much do you know about me?"

I pondered for a moment, "Only what I've heard and seen. Sport and girls. Your the comedian and the jock, almost as popular as I am."

He grinned slightly, "True. All of that's very true." he paused, looking at his knees for a minute. Alice placed her hand on his shoulder briefly, before he continued.

"Two years ago I was sixteen years old. My father was a high powered businessman, all smart suits and briefcases, and shouting loudly into his cellphone nearly all the time. My mother was practically a Stepford housewife – except without the cyborg thing – she cleaned, she raised me, she had four more children. We were the perfectly normal American family.

"But then one day, three months before my seventeenth birthday I got a phone call. My parents were in the Hamptons for a few weeks, an early holiday before my father went back to work. He was due to be closing a huge deal with a partnering business, and would be too busy to even come home for the next couple of months.

"Id just got home, was getting ready to go out to Volterra, meet up with whatever chick I was scoring with that weeks. I cant even remember her name, I don't even think I spoke to her again after that day.

"The phone was ringing when I was coming up the path, I could hear it from outside and I thought "Ill just let it ring. If I don't open the door and get to it in time, then that's their loss isn't it?"

"I was in the door as it rang the last time and my parents voices sounded on the speaker-phone, asking whoever it was to leave a message and they would get back to them.

"I can still remember his voice, the generic grave voice that is used to tell bad news, the sort you hear in hospitals, "This is Chief Swan," he said, "I am so sorry to inform you son. News has just reached us of a fire in the Hamptons, which destroyed your entire families summer home. Your parents...neither of them survived the blaze. It appears that your father went back in to save your mother, and they were trapped by a falling staircase"

"I often wondered how Chief Swan felt when he rang me that day. Every knows everyone in this town, parents meet and chat at the grocery store, parent-teacher conferences, in the street. Me and Bella went to the same nursery, we were lab partners for a year when we were fourteen. We had spoken for a few years, but we weren't on bad terms."

He paused for a moment, before turning to Alice, "How is she, by the way?"

"Fine," Alice murmured, "She asks after you sometimes."

He nodded, before continuing, his eyes still boring holes into his knees, "It was Chief Swan, in the end, who saved my skin. I wasn't old enough yet to look after the children on my own, I wasn't old enough to even _live _on my own. But he lied, and when Social Services came to visit he told them I was eighteen. I looked the part, and they wouldn't contradict him.

"They stopped asking when Mum and Dad were coming home about a year ago. They would wake up crying in the night, asking me when we would be a family again. And everytime I told them that they were never coming home, I broke their hearts all over again."

The silence in the room seemed to stretch on forever. A silence that would be just as comfortable by a deathbed, or a graveside.

Emmett seemed to have shrunk in his chair with every word he spoke. Gone was the boisterous jock who owned the corridors of Forks High. Gone was the paternal figure to four children I had seen earlier.

Left was a boy, barely an adult but weighed down with responsibilities that no-one should have to bear.

Things were clicking into place for me, as though his story had unlocked some part of my brain that noticed tiny details but never registered them.

His parents had never come to a single match, never been there cheering him on in the crowds. The star of the team with no parents to support him.

He never stayed long at Volterra, never drank, and never left much after ten o'clock.

The way that teachers seemed to put up with his comments in class, the way he acted the class clown and no-one seemed to mind. They laughed because he was funny, but they also laughed because they knew he needed it.

I didn't know what to say.

Did I apologise? Tell him I knew how hard it was? Tell him I was there for him?

Did he even want to hear that?

"I..."

But he looked up at me, the fierce expression in his eyes stopping me short. He wasn't angry, far from it. He was tired, he didn't want to apologies and the kind words. He wanted his parents back.

Alice stood up before I could say another word. She knew his story already, but that hadn't stopped her eyes filling with tears as he spoke.

She stood behind him, and it was almost comical how she was the same height standing as he was sitting down – but the time to laugh about that would be later.

Her two thin arms came down, and wrapped themselves firmly around his neck, pulling his head back to rest on her shoulder, running her fingers through his hair.

He didn't cry, I think the grief ran deeper than that, drying up all the tears he had for his parents, he just leant into her, supporting his giant frame on her tiny one.

I was standing before I realised it, crossing the few steps over to them and placing myself next to Alice. One of my hands came up to rest on his shoulder, offering him as much comfort as I knew how to.

I looked down at Alice next to me, cradling the giant in her arms, her violet eyes filled with un-shed tears, a smear of scarlet paint still residing on her cheek from finger-painting with the twins earlier.

It seemed so long ago that we were sitting and watching Disney, Emmett and Alice singing along to every song, laughing and happy. How could this be the same person, how could he be so happy, and yet so sad?

As these thoughts ran through my head, I became vaguely aware as the fingers of Alices free hand snaked down, and wound themselves tightly into mine.

And fuck me if I didn't curl my fingers around hers with just as much ferocity.

**A/N: Rosalie is up next. **


	9. I Never Promised You A Rose Garden

**Disclaimer: Not mine :)**

**Part 1 of Rosalie's story. I think hers and Bella's are my favourites.**

The noise of the cafeteria was buzzing around me, faces and shapes and colours blurred around my eyes, the world passing me by without a second thought.

My eyes were fixed on a figure across the room, the same figure I'd seen less than twelve hours ago falling apart in the arms of a tiny girl.

Emmett McCarty was his usual self, loud and boisterous. He whistled at a cheerleader who sashayed past him, slapped a high-five with a friend across the table, threw a chip in the air and caught it in his mouth, and nudged Alice Brandon so hard with his shoulder as she walked past him that she stumbled over her own ankles.

I suppressed a chuckle as she turned and whacked the back of his head with her book, as he turned and grinned at her.

Her eyes met mine briefly across the room, and I felt all the air rush out of me in those few seconds.

She tilted her head towards Emmett for a moment, and I raised my eyebrows slightly in response. She nodded once, as if to say _"I know."_

"Jasper, man. What are we doing tonight?"

I snapped out of it, jerking my eyes from hers to meet Aro's face. Maria appeared in the seat next to me, dutifully ignoring me as she chatted to Jane.

"The usual?"

My voice sounded flat and empty. I didn't care what they did tonight, as I would probably only be watching.

"I know a guy who can get us an ounce of quality weed for half price," Alec said, his voice lacking more emotion than mine, although that was hardly unusual. He was stoned. Always.

The conversation continued, but I stopped listening.

I forgot about the guys, I forgot about Maria and her bitchy attitude, I forgot about the weed and the cigarettes and the alcohol that would no doubt be surrounding me later.

All I could think about was Emmett. Emmett and Alice, and his secret.

A secret that everyone could know if they wanted, if they only cared enough to stop and ask the picture-perfect American boy if he was alright.

And I felt ashamed.

*************

I slammed my locker door shut with a bang, and jumped slightly as I registered a figure leaning against the otherside of it, staring at me in faint amusement.

"What do you want Brandon?"

"Such a pleasant greeting, as usual Whitlock."

I rolled my eyes, and started off down the hall towards Chemistry, knowing she would follow me seconds before she actually did.

_Three...two...one..._

"Got another friend for you to meet tonight."

_Yep...there it is._

"Can't we leave it a few days Brandon. I'm still recovering from yesterday."

"Yeah you look like shit," she trilled, skipping a few feet ahead of me, and turning to face me, walking backwards own the hall.

_Charming as ever._

I pulled the door open, nodding my head forward to indicate she went through first. He brow furrowed in slight confused, and she stepped tentatively through the door. I rolled my eyes.

"I might be a wanker Brandon, but I'm a Texan gentleman through and through," I said, following the top of her head as it bobbed through the steam already rising from the experiments set up on the tables.

She raised a sardonic eyebrow, dropped her books on her chair, peeled off her coat and threw that on top, and brushed her hair behind her ears with a ridiculous amount of poise before speaking to me.

"Her name's Rosalie Hale. She –"

"I know her," I interrupted, stirring the mixture in the flask as it bubbled above the flame. Silence met my words, and I turned to see her eyebrows even higher up her forehead than before.

"Fine. I know _of _her. Doesn't she do mechanics or something. Caused a fuckload of uproar last year when the teachers didn't let her teach the workshop?"

Brandon grinned with the slight air of a proud mother as she measured out a pale, cloudy liquid.

"Yeah that was her. Good old Rose. She's still proud of that."

I searched my memories for any of Rosalie Hale, but all I could conjure up was a blur of blonde hair, and an almost painfully perfect formed face. She was probably the most beautiful girl at Forks High, if not in the whole town, but she wasn't popular to go with it. She could have easily been head cheerleader, or the most wanted girl in the place; but she seemed to prefer to keep her head down.

A sudden curiosity overwhelmed me.

"Yeah, sure. I'll meet her."

"It wasn't actually a question Whitlock, it was a statement. But if you want I can pretend I'm taking your opinion into account."

"I hate you Brandon."

She grinned up at me through the steam, "I hate you too, Whitlock. Now while this is heating read through these."

A pile of newspaper clippings landed in front of me, neatly fastened together with a pin, the topmost one dating back to the January twoyears beforehand.

I flicked through them, the same picture of the same girl peering up at me on every page. Sultry brown eyes, silky brown curls, high cheekbones and dark red lips; the girl in the photographs was stunning even in newspaper printed black and white.

"Why are you showing me these Brandon, I thought we were talking about Rosalie?"

"That _is _Rosalie."

_Huh?_

I peered closer, spreading the clippings along the tabletop. The name began to jump out of the cramped black print, _Rosalie Hale (15), Rosalie Hale (14), Rosalie Hale (16)._

I squinted at the picture, imagining her with blonde hair, adding two years onto her face.

"She's naturally brunette?"

Brandon smiled slightly, and sat down next to me. She picked up one clipping, the oldest one, and gazed at the picture.

"Yeah. She is."

Her tone was sad, almost wistful.

She opened her binder, and pulled out a handful of photographs from the front pocket, before handing it to me.

Two girls grinned up at me. One was unmistakeably Alice, although her hair was longer and more brown than black. Her thin arm was wound around the waist of Rosalie, looking as gorgeous as ever even though they must have been only fourteen. Alice was bent forwards slightly, her eyes half closed as she laughed; while Rosalie's head was flung backwards, her mouth open wide with laughter.

The next photo was taken maybe a few months later, Rosalie's arm snaking up to hold the camera above their heads, Alice wrapping her arms around her. Rosalie's lips were pressed against Alice's forehead, her other fingers spread into a peace sign.

I laughed quietly to myself, before turning to the last photo.

The smile died on my lips.

It was smudgy, blurred as though taken by accident. Alice and Rosalie were sitting against a wall in a house I didn't recognise. Alice's head was back against the wall, her eyes closed and surrounded by deep shadows. Her hair was gone, shorn off to barely five inches long, stuck up randomly around her face like bird feathers.

Her fingers were twined in Rosalie's hair, who had her head in Alice's lap, her eyes staring directly into the camera. They were dark and dull, empty of all emotion. Thick shadows surrounded her eyes, her cheekbones were sunken an her wrists looked ready to snap.

"What...what happened?" I croaked, my voice hoarse.

I glanced up at Brandon as my question was met with silence. She was staring at the photograph in my hands, an intense but unnameable emotion filling her eyes. She was sad, and angry, but at the same time hollow, and tired.

She pressed her lips together, blinked twice, and pulled her eyes from the photo up to meet mine.

"You'll find out. Later – you have maths last don't you?"

"Uh uh."

"Meet me outside the mechanics workshop after school then. And be punctual."

_Oh look, the stroppy bitch is back._

I saluted her sarcastically, "Yes _Ma'am_."

*************

I was jittering with nerves as I walked from maths round the back of the schools, towards the workshops. What would I learn tonight? Would I almost feel like crying, as I had done when I'd left Emmett's house yesterday? Would I spend the whole day hating myself for being such a self-centred, conceited bastard when it came to my schoolmates?

_Probably._

_- Great. Thanks._

_Always here to help._

"Whitlock?"

Brandon was leaning against the wall, an open book in hand. She tilted her head towards the door, before swinging it open and entering the workshop.

A gleaming silver Volvo was taking up most of the space in the room that wasn't already filled with various tools and complicated bits of machinery. I ran my hands nervously through my hair at the thought. I might have been born a country boy, but that meant my idea of manual labour was milking cows and putting up fences. Technical shit confused the hell out of me.

Two long, denim-clad legs emerged underneath the Volvo, quickly followed by a the torso and head of a girl. Her hair was twisted up, her face and t shirt smudged with dirt and oil.

She rubbed a wrist across her face, shook her hair out of its topknot to send it spiralling around her shoulders, straightened her shirt, and crossed the room in two strides, wrapped her arms around Alice with a delighted laugh.

"Al! I've missed you so much! We haven't hung out in so long, I mean I get that we're both busy and shit, but come on bitch! Spare a little time for your old best friend!"

Alice laughed, "You know I love you Rose! And anyway, I'm here today aren't I?"

Rosalie snorted, "Yeah to interrogate me with this..." she turned her eyes on me, ran them up and down my body twice, before returning them to my face,

"...boy."

Alice giggled, before nudging her in the ribs, "Be nice, Rose."

The blonde rolled her eyes, "Always am Al!"

She strolled towards me, extending one hand to take mine. The fingers that clasped around mine were cold and soft.

"Rosalie Hale,"

"Jasper Whitlock,"

"I know who you are," she said, before pulling hand on my arm and jerking me closer to her, "If you hurt Alice I will personally castrate you."

I swallowed hard, "I...don't doubt you would, in the slightest."

She smiled, let go of my hand, and turned back to the tiny brunette, who was examining the Volvo.

"Is this Edwards? I'd recognise the state of those back seats anywhere. You know he hasn't cleaned out the back of his car since he got it. Four years ago."

Rosalie shook her head in disgust, "Yeah. He's blown the transmission. Twice. I promised him I'd fix it up for the return of two favours. I haven't decided what they are yet, but they're gonna be good."

Their eyes met for a moment, and they conversed silently in that way that only girls can, before turning simultaneously to face me, and sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning with their backs against the car.

I mirrored their pose, and waited for Rosalie to speak.

She was silent for a long time, before, "I guess Alice has shown you the articles. You would have known if you'd been here, but I think you were in Texas at the time. Everyone knew; this is hardly a big town and news travels fast. And plus, people would have wondered otherwise."

"I guess you've heard of Royce King? Most people have, even the ones who weren't here when his family was. His family was big in town, popular, famous. His parents were head of pretty much every committee we have here. They were well liked, charitable, the perfect American family. He was popular, rich, loved. Everyone wanted to be him, or be with him."

"And let me guess, you were?"

"Damn right I was. For two years. Our parents were old friends, they had it in mind that we were gonna marry someday. Raise a family is his old parents' house, that sort of thing. I really loved him, and I thought he loved me.

"But then one day, me and him went out to a party that a friend of his was having. I was fifteen, he was eighteen, nearly nineteen. I'd never met his friends before, so I wanted to make a good impression. I wore a tiny black dress that he always loved on me, and some ridiculously high heels. I was trying to seem older than I was, hoping his popular senior friends wouldn't just see me as the new girl who grew tits early.

The party was alright, it was the first high school party I'd ever been to. I was the only one in my year invited; everyone else was eighteen. I was so nervous, Royce kept handing me drinks to 'keep the nerves away' he said. I never noticed that he didn't drink anything. I'd never drunk that much before, it all went to my head. The room was spinning, I could barely stand up, let alone walk. I think I passed out on a bed, I'm not really sure.

"I woke up a few hours later, most people had gone home but Royce said him and his friends were going to hang around and play some games. I guessed I was still a little bit drunk, I was so dizzy and sick, but I said I'd stay with them. We were down in the basement of the house, me and seven boys sitting in a circle. It occurred to me that I'd never seen or met any of them before. They weren't the young gentlemen that were round the King's house every weekend, and they definitely didn't go to our school.

"We were playing some game. Some drinking game. I thought it would be a good idea if I didn't drink very much more, I didn't want to show myself up and I was feeling pretty relaxed. Royce said he would go and get me a drink from the kitchen. When he left two of the guys came and sat either side of me, one had his arm around my neck, the other around my waist. I hoped they would leave when Royce came back, but they all just laughed. He gave me my drink, which I downed pretty much straight away.

"It's a bit of a blur after that. I didn't need to read the drug tests or police report to figure out my drink had been spiked, or that Royce had been the one to do it.

"I can just remember flashes, bits of memories all jumbled together.

"There was someone holding me down, I remember struggling against them. I think they hit me, maybe I blacked out for a bit. I can just remember pain, blinding pain and being pinned to the floor.

"The police report said I was found lying in the road a few streets away, covered with a sheet. My cheekbone was fractured, three of my ribs were broken, and all the bones in my hands were crushed. There was also massive amounts of vaginal tearing and haemorrhaging."

My teeth had driven so far into my hand they had drawn blood.

Her hands were folded on her lap, her eyes gazing at the floor. She spoke as if it was a story, it hadn't happened to her but to somebody else.

"The King's moved away shortly after. There was no actual proof of who it was; I was too out of it to recognise any faces, I didn't even know the name of the street the party was on. For all the police knew I was raped by a group of random men in the street. There was a suspicion that no one wanted to believe, and although their excuse for moving was that I had shamed them, everyone knew eventually what had happened."

**I'm going to leave it there.**

**Let it sink in, I've given you a lot all at once.**


End file.
